IN  MEMORIAL 
Isaac   Flapg.-   1845-1953J 


BACCALAUREATE  SERMON, 


ORATION    AND    POEM. 


•  r  V  ft  f  X        U  i   K 


CLASS    OF     1864. 


QAMBRID  G  E: 
WELCH,    BIGELOW,    AND    COMPANY. 

J'HIXTKnS   TO   THE    I  NI VEI5SITV. 

1864. 


HI 


CLASS     COMMITTEE. 


WILLIAM    LAMBERT    RICHARDSON,   Class  Secretary. 
HENRY    HARRISON    SPRAGUE. 
GEORGE    GOLDING    KENNEDY. 


Jj 


*  -: 


THE   CHRISTIAN   ORDER    OF  NOBILITY. 


SERMON 

PREACHED     IN    THE     APPLETON     CHAPEL, 

JUNE    19,    1864, 

BEING    THE    SUNDAY    BEFORE    THE    VALEDICTORY    EXERCISES 
OF    THE    SENIOR    CLASS, 

BY  ANDREW   P.    PEABODY,   D.D.,  LL.D., 

PLUMMER   PROFESSOR   OF   CHRISTIAN    MORALS. 


M300912 


SERMON. 


"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now ;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter."  - 

JOHN  xiii.  7. 

JESUS  had  just  been  performing  a  menial  office  for  his 
disciples,  —  had  washed  their  feet  as  they  were  about  to 
sit  down  at  the  paschal  supper, —  a  service  usually  performed 
before  supper  by  a  hireling  or  a  slave.  Peter  objects  to  be 
ing  thus  served  by  his  Master,  and  says,  in  earnest  depre 
cation,  "  Lord,  dost  thou  wash  my  feet  ?  "  Jesus  replies, 
"  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  —  thou  canst  not  yet 
comprehend  the  significance  of  this  act  of  mine  ;  but  thou 
wilt  know  in  after  time,  and  wilt  deem  it  thy  highest  privi 
lege  and  joy  to  do  likewise." 

This  act  of  Christ  was  a  revolutionary  act.  It  was  utterly 
opposed  to  pre-existing  notions,  and  was  designed  to  subvert 
them.  There  lived  not  then  the  man  who  knew  what  it 
meant;  there  are  thousands  upon  thousands  now  who  live 
only  to  embody  its  meaning.  It  then  seemed  servile  ;  it 
now  seems  regal.  Peter  then  felt  that  he  could  never  stoop 
so  low  ;  the  Peters  of  our  time  —  earnest,  aspiring,  energetic 
disciples  —  feel  that  they  can  never  rise  so  high. 

In  fine,  this  act  of  Jesus  established  a  new  style  and  order 
of  nobility,  —  that  of  the  great  servants.  Before,  greatness 
had  for  its  aim  and  token  the  acquisition  or  appropriation  of 
wealth,  title,  power,  service,  or  whatever  else  might  be  the 
foremost  object  of  desire  ;  and  the  greatest  man  was  he  who 


6 

could  most  efficiently  make  others  tributary  to  himself. 
Since,  greatness  has  had  for  its  aim  and  token  self-privation, 
self-renunciation,  the  bestowment  of  all  that  one  has  and  is 
for  the  good  of  his  brethren  ;  and  he  is  the  greatest  who  has 
the  largest,  the  most  affluent  nature  to  spend  and  sacrifice 
for  his  race,  and  the  most  fervent  desire  to  coin  his  whole 
being  into  uses  and  services. 

A  moment's  reflection  will  show  you  how  entirely,  in  this 
respect,  Jesus  has  made  all  things  new,  though  the  renova 
tion  has  been  slow.  Review  the  series  of  prolonged  and 
extended  wars  from  the  dawn  of  history  almost  to  our  own 
time,  and  you  can  recall  as  identified  with  each  of  them,  and 
thus  transmitted  to  enduring  fame,  certain  names  of  heroes  — 
manslayers,  besiegers  of  cities,  master-destroyers  —  for  whose 
behoof  no  less  than  for  whose  praise  armies  have  been  sacri 
ficed  and  countries  laid  waste.  Who  were  the  heroes  of  the 
Crimean  War,  —  for  its  magnitude,  its  darings,  its  endur- 
ings,  its  brilliant  and  disastrous  epochs,  one  of  the  most  event 
ful  wars  in  all  history  ?  Can  you  recall  their  names  without 
.a  painful  effort  of  recollection  ?  Is  there  one  among  those 
names  that  will  be  transmitted  as  illustrious  even  to  the  next 
generation  ?  But  that  war  has  its  heroine,  who  has  borne 
off  all  its  laurels,  —  the  founder  of  the  sisterhood  of  mercy, 
the  tenderly  nurtured  woman  who  went  forth,  in  the  spirit 
of  the  world's  Redeemer,  to  save  and  to  bless,  whose  name 
was  floated  heavenward  on  the  thanks  and  praises  of  those 
ready  to  perish,  and  is  written  for  ever  and  ever  in  the  bright 
ness  of  the  firmament  on  high. 

In  the  conflict  into  which  we  have  been  forced,  though 
there  are  those  of  the  fallen  and  of  the  surviving  who  will  be 
held  in  reverent  and  grateful  memory,  will  live  in  history, 
and  be  deemed  great  in  coming  ages,  they  have  their  glory, 
not  as  destroyers,  but  as  preservers,  —  not  for  what  they 
sought,  but  for  what  they  sacrificed,  —  not  as  soldiers,  but  as 
patriots,  —  not  because  they  were  commanders,  leaders,  office 
bearers,  but  because  they  made  themselves  the  very  chief  of 


servants.  Yet  even  their  exalted  fame  will  be  rivalled,  if 
not  transcended,  by  that  of  the  ministering  angels  in  camp 
and  battle-field  and  hospital,  whose  offices  of  pure  evangelic 
mercy  have  wooed  back  hope  for  those  from  whom  hope 
seemed  fled  forever,  have  soothed  the  agony  of  ebbing  life 
with  all  of  a  mother's  tenderness,  and  borne  up  to  heaven  on 
the  strong  prayer  of  faith  the  spirits  of  the  dying. 

Can  there  be  a  better  lesson  than  our  text  suggests  for 
those  who  claim  our  special  interest  to-day  ?  You,  my 
friends,  go  hence,  one  and  all,  I  trust,  with  a  generous  am 
bition, —  with  the  desire,  not  to  supplant,  but  to  excel, — 
not  to  snatch  prizes  from  others,  but  to  win  and  wear  honor 
in  careers  on  which  none  can  fail  who  do  not  deserve  to  fail. 
Such  is  the  career  opened  by  our  Saviour,  and  hallowed  by 
his  footprints,  —  that  of  great  servants.  It  is  a  field  of  en 
deavor  in  which  there  is  no  unfriendly  emulation,  in  which 
there  is  room  for  all/need  of  all,  glory  for  all,  conscious  and 
almost  always  manifest  reward  and  blessedness  on  earth,  and 
at  the  gate  of  heaven  the  greeting,  "  Well  done,  thou  good 
and  faithful  servant ;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

Let  me  now  ask  your  attention  to  some  of  the  services  due 
from  the  educated  men  of  our  age  and  land. 

I.  As  educated  men,  you  are  bound  to  commend  liberal 
tastes  and  pursuits  by  the  grace  and  beauty  of  your  own 
characters.  Learning  may  be  made  repulsive  or  attractive, 
according  as  it  is  merely^received  by  the  intellect  and  lodged 
in  the  memory,  or  digested,  assimilated,  and  .utilized.  In  the 
former  case,  it  is  neither  culture,  knowledge,  nor  wisdom  ; 
and  there  have  been  prodigies  of  learning  who  have  been  at 
the  same  time  prodigies  of  boorishness,  ignorance,  and  folly, 
nuisances  and  stumbling-blocks  in  the  paths  of  erudition, 
fungous  excrescences  upon  the  surface  of  the  society  which 
ought  to  have  been  adorned  by  the  flowering  and  nourished 
by  the  fruitage  of  their  genius. 

Some  men  take  in  learning  beyond  their  capacity  of  stow- 


8 

age,  and  it  lumbers  and  clogs  the  mental  passages,  impedes 
the  processes  of  the  intellect,  dulls  the  discernment,  makes 
the  mind  heavy  and  slow,  and  in  its  separate  items  is  never 
at  hand  when  needed,  but  tumbles  from  the  pen  or  the  lips 
out  of  shape,  out  of  place,  out  of  season.  Learned  men  of 
this  order  —  the  Bentleys  and  Persons  —  are  the  reproach 
and  scandal  of  scholarship.  They  are  so  far  out  of  gearing 
with  the  living  world,  that  their  attainments  can  hardly  be 
made  to  subserve  any  important  office  in  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  literature,  or  science.  At  the  same  time,  their 
moral  development  is  generally  as  ungraceful  and  faulty  as 
their  style  of  intellectual  character.  Conscious  of  large  at 
tainments,  painfully  aware  that  they  are  unappreciated,  and 
wholly  ignorant  of  the  reasons  why  they  forfeit  the  favor  of 
society,  they  become  morose  and  surly  ;  they  present  a  por 
cupine  aspect  to  the  surrounding  world,  and  are  very  Ish- 
maelites  in  their  relations  to  their  fellow-men. 

But  learning,  made  one's  own  by  the  vigorous  action  of  the 
reflective  powers,  enters  into  the  soul's  life-blood  ;  softens 
and  sweetens  the  manners  ;  refines  and  exalts  the  tastes  ; 
imparts  weight  and  dignity  to  the  character ;  makes  the 
speech  pure,  rich,  and  strong  ;  fits  the  scholar  for  his  life- 
work  by  his  conversance  with  the  root  and  essence  of  things ; 
inspires  him  with  equal  prudence  and  vigor  in  action  ;  gives 
aim  and  end  to  his  endeavor  ;  and  places  him  in  kindly  and 
beneficent  relations  with  all  around  him. 

Learning,  thus  incorporated  into  ^he  being,  is  second  only 
to  religion  as  a  moral  force.  It  makes  its  possessor  modest 
and  humble ;  for  he  owns  and  feels  its  limits  and  its  imper 
fections,  and  in  the  desire  and  effort  for  larger  attainments 
he  regards  himself  as  but  a  learner  and  a  novice  in  the  ratio 
of  his  advancement  and  proficiency.  At  the  same  time,  these 
lofty  pursuits  can  hardly  fail  so  to  occupy  thought,  sentiment, 
and  feeling  as  to  exclude  low  passions  and  appetites,  sordid 
avarice  and  mean  ambition,  and  to  make  the  life  sober,  chaste, 
generous,  and  faithful. 


9 

Such  scholars  you  are  called  to  be.  Remember  that  it  is 
not  mass  of  acquisition,  but  quantity  of  character,  that  you 
need,  —  not  learning,  but  wisdom  ;  and  learning,  only  that  it 
may  be  transmuted  into  wisdom,  —  dead  tongues,  that  they 
may  give  grace  and  flexibility  to  your  living  speech,  —  his 
tory,  that  it  may  furnish  precedents,  examples,  warnings,  for 
the  time  in  which  your  lot  is  cast,  —  the  philosophy  of  mind, 
that  you  may  know  yourselves  and  use  your  powers,  —  nat 
ural  science,  that  God's  creation  around  you  may  speak  to 
you  in  a  known  language,  —  mathematical  laws  and  propor 
tions,  that  you  may  read  the  Divine  ordinances  in  earth  and 
sea  and  sky  and  stars. 

By  such  culture  you  make  yourselves  among  the  very  chief 
of  servants.  You  commend  good  learning  by  your  example. 
Your  higher  life  is  a  perpetual  protest  against  the  low,  grov 
elling  utilitarianism  which  is  the  curse  and  bane  of  the  age. 
You  draw  ingenuous  youth  to  the  elevation  on  which  you 
stand.  You  show  that  liberal  pursuits  minister  to  strength 
and  beauty,  to  the  highest  type  of  manhood,  to  the  power 
that  both  uses  and  overcomes  the  world. 

II.  I  would  next  speak  of  your  duty,  as  educated  men,  to 
your  country.  Some  of  you  have  already  obeyed  the  call  to 
her  active  service,  and  will  be  graduated  with  double  honors 
in  arts  and  arms.  I  am  reminded,  too,  and  with  saddened 
thought,  that  not  all  have  returned,  that  you  have  laid  your 
costly,  precious  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  patriotism,  and  that 
death  in  the  cause  so  dear  and  sacred  leaves  only  cherished 
memories  of  the  gifted,  beloved,  and  tenderly  lamented, 
whose  unseen  presence  deepens  the  solemnity  of  your  part 
ing  hour.  So  long  as  the  country  still  needs  for  her  defence 
those  who  are  her  pride  and  hope,  I  can  only  bid  a  fervent 
God-speed  to  such  of  you  as  may  serve  her  in  the  camp  and 
field.  But  she  has  other  —  I  will  not  say  higher,  but  more 
enduring  —  claims  on  those  who  should  be  her  leading  minds. 
There  lies  before  us  a  work  of  reconstruction,  in  which  you 
must  bear  your  part. 


10 

Strained  to  the  utmost  tension  in  the  stress  of  need,  our 
body  politic  may  find  itself,  in  victory  even,  collapsed  and 
nerveless.  We  shall  retire  from  the  conflict  a  reunited  peo 
ple,  I  trust,  through  the  good  providence  of  God,  but  with 
our  industrial,  commercial,  and  financial  interests  disordered 
and  deranged,  and  not  without  many  of  those  demoralizing 
influences  which  follow  in  the  train  even  of  the  most  neces 
sary  and  righteous  war.  It  will  be  your  part,  in  your  several 
spheres  of  service,  to  study  the  public  good  ;  to  be  vigilant 
and  energetic  as  citizens  ;  to  weigh  well  the  measures  which 
may  be  helped  or  hindered  by  your  action  ;  to  aid  in  the 
elevation  of  capable,  just,  God-fearing  men  to  places  of  trust 
and  power  ;  to  give  the  whole  weight  of  your  example  in 
behalf  of  the  frugality  which  alone  can  restore  what  war  has 
wasted,  the  temperance  and  soberness  which  alone  can  com 
mend  our  people  to  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  the  integrity  and 
loyalty  in  public  and  private  life  which  alone  can  transmit 
the  blessedness  of  our  free  institutions  to  the  coming  age, 
and  make  them  the  cynosure  of  liberty  to  all  lands  and 
nations. 

In  the  positions  which  most  or  all  of  you  will  occupy,  you 
must  have  wide  and  enduring  influence.  Your  passiveness 
and  indifference  as  citizens  will  paralyze  action  around  you. 
Your  self-seeking  and  time-serving  will  corrupt  public  opinion 
in  a  larger  sphere  than  you  mean  or  know.  Your  pure  and 
conscientious  discharge  of  every  function  that  may  devolve 
upon  you,  whether  of  suffrage,  speech,  pen,  or  official  station, 
will  multiply  and  extend  itself,  not  only  among  those  with 
whom  you  are  intimately  associated,  but  from  numerous 
centres  of  influence  which  lie  within  your  respective  circles. 
It  is  a  responsibility  which  you  cannot  evade  or  disown,  and 
which  will  grow  constantly  with  every  stage  of  your  success 
and  advancement.  God  has  given  you  your  nurture  under 
the  best  government  the  world  has  ever  seen  ;  thank  him  for 
it  by  such  patriotic  service  and  devotion  as  only  the  highly 
privileged  can  render. 


11 

III.  Including  all  other  services,  and  essential  to  their 
consistency  and  their  effectual  working,  is  the  service  de 
manded  of  you  in  the  religious  consecration  of  your  hearts 
and  lives.  On  you  as  scholars  religion  has  peculiar  claims. 

It  might  be  pardoned  to  those  who  are  constantly  occupied 
with  the  most  paltry  material  interests,  if  there  were  not  in 
them  a  sufficiently  clear  spiritual  self-consciousness  to  com 
mend  to  their  contemplation  themes  appertaining  to  the 
inward  life.  It  would  be  venial,  too,  if  those  unused  to 
reasoning  or  to  research,  incapable  of  following  fallacy  or 
sophistry  through  its  windings,  were  bejuggled  and  bewil 
dered  by  the  assumptions  and  the  casuistry  of  infidelity  or 
naturalism,  if  a  sneer  against  the  Bible  sometimes  had  with 
them  the  force  of  an  argument,  if  some  cavil  at  an  obscure 
Old  Testament  narrative  seemed  to  them  destructive  of  the 
entire  historical  basis  of  Christianity. 

But  you  have  no  such  apology.  You  have  been  trained  in 
the  use  of  argument,  —  in  the  exercise  of  reason.  You 
know,  or  can  know,  how  to  search  into  the  evidences  of  the 
Christian  faith ;  to  test  the  strength  of  its  foundations ;  to 
judge  of  the  marks  of  Divine  or  human  workmanship  in  its 
superstructure  ;  to  determine  for  yourselves  whether  it  bears 
tokens  of  fraud  or  truth,  of  delusion  or  reality,  of  myth  or 
miracle,  of  development  from  man's  brain  or  of  revelation 
from  the  infinite  God,  of  earthly  or  of  heavenly  parentage. 
You  have  no  right  to  remain  in  doubt.  If  thorough  investi 
gation  make  you  unbelievers,  I  judge  you  not ;  but  if  you 
become  so  by  reading,  hearing,  and  speculating  on  the 
negative  side,  and  ignoring  all  that  may  be  urged  in  the 
affirmative,  you  do  with  the  most  momentous  of  all  subjects 
what  you  would  not  risk  your  reputation  by  doing  with 
any  other  subject,  however  insignificant  in  magnitude  or 
ephemeral  in  interest.  But  I  have  no  fear  for  the  result 
of  honest  inquiry.  If  Christianity  be  divine,  it  cannot  fail  to 
vindicate  its  divinity  to  every  diligent  seeker  after  the  truth. 

You,  too,  as  educated  men,  live  not  on  the  low  sensual 


12 

plane  on  which  persons  destitute  of  culture  must  habitually 
dwell.  Yours  is,  or  ought  to  be,  a  life  of  thought,  sentiment, 
reflection.  And  can  there  be  any  apology  for  excluding  or 
slighting  those  noblest  themes  of  thought  that  belong  to  the 
essence,  the  Author,  the  destiny  of  your  being,  —  those  high 
est  sentiments  that  appertain  to  the  realm  of  spiritual  exist 
ence,  —  those  loftiest  subjects  of  reflection  which  embrace  the 
infinite  and  the  eternal  ?  No.  Your  culture  makes  these 
contemplations  your  duty  no  less  than  your  privilege.  If 
Christianity  is  God-born,  you,  by  remaining  aliens  from  its 
faith  and  joy,  are  at  once  rejecting  God's  best  gifts,  and 
pouring  scorn  on  the  Giver. 

But  while  for  your  own  sake  I  cannot  urge  these  sacred 
themes  too  earnestly  upon  your  regard,  they  equally  belong 
to  you  as  the  trained  chief  servants  of  your  generation.  Re 
member  that  the  excellence  of  your  service  depends  even 
more  on  what  you  are  than  on  what  you  do ;  —  on  the  mass 
and  momentum  of  your  mental,  moral,  spiritual  life  ;  on  the 
capacity  of  influence  with  which  your  person,  your  words, 
your  deeds  are  charged ;  on  the  power  there  is  in  you ;  on 
the  virtue  that  goes  forth  from  you.  But  Christian  piety 
alone  can  give  the  crowning  grace  to  your  character,  can 
place  you  beyond  reach  of  temptation,  can  attach  weight  to 
your  precept,  dignity  and  sacredness  to  your  example.  You 
put  your  soul,  your  moral  nature,  such  as  it  is,  into  what 
ever  you  are,  and  say,  and  do.  If  that  soul  be  sensualized, 
materialized,  conversant  with  earthly  things  alone,  your  best 
intended  endeavors  for  the  good  of  others  are  limited  by  the 
limitations  of  your  own  being.  If  that  soul  be  enlarged, 
exalted,  hallowed  by  heavenly  communings,  by  the  life  of  God 
within,  then  is  there  a  "  power  from  on  high,"  —  an  efficacy 
literally  Divine,  —  not  only  in  what  you  say  and  do  expressly 
for  others,  but  in  the  mere  example  of  quiet,  faithful,  per 
sistent  duty.  You  cannot  be  what  God  and  Christ  would 
have  you  be,  without  being  among  the  very  chief  of  servants 
to  your  fellow-men. 


13 

But  because  as  educated  men  you  will  occupy  conspicuous 
places,  your  irreligion,  your  infidelity,  your  neglect  of  sacred 
times  and  ordinances,  will  be  contagious.  Sneers  and  scoffs 
at  Divine  truth  from  your  lips  will  find  ready  currency. 
Loose  notions  as  to  religion  or  its  records  will  have  from  you 
an  authority  which  minds  of  inferior  culture  could  never 
command.  You  are  set,  if  not  for  the  rise,  for  the  falling  of 
many ;  and  to  the  full  measure  of  your  superior  privileges 
must  you  be  responsible  for  the  souls  that  will  often  owe  to 
you  their  noblest  or  their  basest  impulses,  their  initial  start 
ing  and  their  vigorous  progress  on  the  path  to  God,  or  on  the 
way  of  death. 

"  For  their  sakes,"  said  Jesus,  "  I  sanctify  myself."  "  For 
their  sakes,"  — for  the  sake  of  the  many,  the  constantly  wid 
ening  circle,  to  whom  you  may  be  the  source  of  the  holiest 
influences,  —  sanctify  yourselves,  that  in  the  resurrection- 
life  there  may  be  those  who  will  say  to  you,  "  Ye  helped  us 
hither,"  and  who  will  be  as  jewels  in  the  crown  of  your  eter 
nal  rejoicing. 

My  friends,  receive  these  counsels  as  the  heart-offering  of 
one  who  speaks  to  you  lovingly  and  hopefully,  —  of  one,  too, 
whose  years  have  their  authority,  —  who  has  followed  with 
the  warmest  sympathy  successive  circles  of  youth  that  have 
been  under  his  charge  into  the  scenes  of  their  maturer  cares 
and  trusts,  and  who  speaks  of  what  he  knows,  testifies  of  what 
he  has  seen,  in  the  solemn  emphasis  with  which  he  commends 
Christian  faith  and  piety  as  essential  to  the  loyal,  faithful, 
efficient  service  of  man,  and  of  God  in  and  through  man. 

I  feel  a  peculiar  nearness  of  intimacy  with  you.  You  and 
I  commenced  our  college  life  together  ;  and  you  can  hardly 
know  how  solicitously  I  have  watched  the  development  and 
growth  of  character  in  those  who  here  first  came  under  my 
instruction,  and  compared  each  stage  of  the  fulfilment  with 
the  hope  and  promise  that  you  severally  gave  at  the  outset. 

I  cannot  but  recall,  as  our  parting  approaches,  him  under 
whose  presidency  you  entered  on  your  academic  career.  It 


14 

was  the  joy  of  his  life  and  the  beauty  of  his  character,  to  be 
among  the  very  chief  of  servants.  No  one  illustrated  more 
fully  and  richly  than  he  the  beneficent  influence,  the  ex 
tended  and  cumulative  power  for  good,  at  the  command  of 
the  Christian  scholar.  You  will  carry  hence  with  you  pre 
cious  memories  of  his  genial  spirit,  his  meek  wisdom,  his 
wealth  of  intellect,  his  persistent  firmness  in  the  right.  Let 
us  be  thankful  that  the  dead  live  for  our  example,  and  speak 
for  our  counsel,  though  we  see  them  no  more  till  we  meet 
them  in  heaven. 

My  friends,  take  with  you  my  congratulations  on  all  the 
honor  that  you  have  worthily  won,  on  all  the  prophecy  of 
worth  and  honor  that  you  bear  with  you  from  these  walls  to 
the  world-wide  university  in  which  your  training  is  now  to 
be  pursued  ;  and  my  most  affectionate  wishes  for  your  well- 
being  and  well-doing.  May  God  bless  you  and  keep  you. 
May  he  make  you  his  servants  for  great  and  enduring  good 
in  and  far  beyond  your  day  and  generation.  May  he  write 
your  names  together  in  his  book  of  life  eternal ;  and  while 
we  shall  never  all  again  renew  our  Sabbath  worship  in  the 
same  earthly  sanctuary,  may  none  be  wanting  in  our  united 
praise  and  worship  in  the  temple  not  made  with  hands. 


BACCALAUREATE    HYMN. 

BY    ISAAC   HOWARD    PAGE. 

TUNE,  —  Pleyel's  Hymn. 

FATHER,  thou  hast  led  us  on 
O'er  a  long,  eventful  way ; 
Now,  as  near  the  end  we  stand, 
Hear  us  while  to  Thee  we  pray. 

Thanks  for  thy  unbounded  love ; 

For  our  sins  a  sorrow  deep ; 
O  forgive,  and  evermore 

Help  us  in  thy  ways  to  keep. 

In  the  war  of  earthly  life 

Help  us  bravely,  nobly  fight; 

Warm  our  hearts  with  holy  love ; 
Guide  us  by  thy  perfect  light. 

May  we,  now  so  soon  to  part, 
When  the  voyage  of  life  is  o'er, 

Meet,  beyond  the  stormy  sea, 
On  the  peaceful,  happy  shore. 


CLASS-DAY    EXERCISES, 


JUNE  24,    1864. 


0f 


Music. 

n. 

Prayer. 
BY   REV.    ANDREW    P.    PEABODY,  D.  D. 

III. 
Oration. 

BY  GEORGE  CALLENDER  BRACKETT, 

OF    SOMERVILLE. 

IV. 

Music. 

V. 

Poem. 

BY  ISAAC    FLAGG, 

OF     SOMERVILLE. 
VI. 

Ode. 

BY  CHARLES    HENRY    COXE, 

OF    PHILADELPHIA,    PENN. 


ORATION. 


BY  GEORGE  CALLENDER  BRACKETT. 

IN  the  narrow,  crowded  streets  of  the  Indian  cities,  toiling 
patiently  day  after  day,  sit  at  their  simple  handlooms  the 
weavers  of  the  costly  shawls  which  serve  to  ornament  our 
Western  civilization.  Slow  is  the  labor,  and  slowly  grows  its 
product,  till  under  the  skilful  hand  what  was  at  first  but  a 
confused  heap  of  wool  becomes  the  gorgeous  fabric  of  bright 
colors,  lending  grace  and  ornament  to  royalty  itself.  Not 
only  is  it  woof  ajid  warp  the  humble  weaver  sees,  but  in  his 
finished  work  lie  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  a  lifetime,  which 
with  each  separate  thread  were  woven  in,  and  the  shawl, 
which  to  us  speaks  of  luxury  and  wealth,  to  one  better 
acquainted  with  its  language  tells  a  tale  of  life  wasting  slowly 
away,  of  crushed  hopes  and  a  nameless  grave. 

The  life  of  these  Hindoo  weavers  is  symbolic  of  the  life  of 
every  man,  live  he  where  or  how  he  may.  The  infant,  when 
he  first  comes  into  the  world,  takes  his  place  at  the  loom  lie 
finds  prepared  for  him,  and  patiently  works  in  the  morning 
and  in  the  evening,  till  his  hand  no  more  knows  its  cunning 
to  produce  the  pattern  which  his  life  has  set  before  it.  Day 
by  day  the  shuttle  flies,  and  day  by  day  a  new  thread  is 
added ;  now  one  of  gold,  to  cast  its  radiance  and  charm  of 
beauty  over  the  whole  design  ;  now  one  of  black,  which 
spreads  its  effect  no  less  upon  the  fabric  some  day  to  be  hung 
up  and  examined  as  the  result  of  his  life's  work.  For  gloomy 
black,  and  gleaming  gold,  and  every  other  color  and  texture 


20 

which  we  weave  into  our  work,  will  tell  our  story  as  it  tells 
its  own,  and,  all  taken  together,  they  shall  serve  as  patterns 
to  other  workers  and  weavers,  who  shall  occupy  our  places, 
and  in  their  turn  furnish  patterns  for  the  long  train  who  shall 
succeed  them.  Who  shall  say  how  far  the  design  we  leave 
behind  us  shall  assist  these  future  laborers  ?  Yes,  for  the 
black  line  which  tells  of  duties  unperformed,  of  sins  com 
mitted,  as  well  as  the  golden  thread,  shall  serve  them  in  their 
labors.  The  mariner  watches  with  no  less  eagerness  for  the 
sound  of  the  wave-tost  fog-bell  and  the  gleam  of  the  beacon 
lamp  that  warns  him  of  the  rocky  coast,  than  he  looks  for 
the  welcoming  light  of  the  friendly  town,  foretelling  the 
harbor  and  safe  anchorage.  And  we,  in  our  strivings  and 
desires  for  perfection,  depend  no  less  upon  the  errors  and 
misdeeds  of  our  predecessors  and  our  friends,  than  we  do 
upon  the  example  which  their  acts  of  virtue  and  heroism  pre 
sent.  Can  we  say  that  what  success  we  have  achieved  is  due 
less  to  our  neighbor's  failings  than  to  the  excellences  of  his 
performance  ?  Had  we  no  errors,  we  could  look  for  no  pro 
gress  ;  it  is  by  our  shortcomings  that  we  are  led  to  more 
active  exertions  for  improvement,  and  only  by  the  milestones 
of  our  youthful  faults  can  we  measure  our  advance  in  the 
path  of  virtue. 

George  Washington,  the  patriot,  and  Benedict  Arnold,  the 
traitor,  are  the  two  names  most  opposed  to  each  other  in  our 
struggle  for  national  existence ;  yet  different  as  they  are,  the 
life  of  either  placed  in  a  boy's  hand  would  lead  to  the  same 
result,  —  a  devotion  to  the  right,  a  hatred  for  the  wrong,  a 
deeper  and  more  reverent  love  for  our  native  land.  Thus  the 
evil  of  the  past  works  hand  in  hand  with  the  good,  and  the 
optimist  gathers  flowers  from  the  selfsame  branch  where  the 
pessimist  finds  only  thorns. 

But  we,  who  have  been  also  weaving  for  the  past  twenty 
years,  ought  already  to  begin  to  display  the  dim  foreshadow 
ing  of  the  result  of  our  work,  or  we  may  indeed  fear  lest  the 
work  and  worker  have  both  been  wasted,  and  the  produce  of 


21 

our  labor  be  of  value  to  teach  others  only  to  shun  our  errors, 
not  to  copy  our  success.  And  for  the  last  four  years  we  have 
worked  steadily  side  by  side,  gathering  our  threads  from  the 
same  mass  of  material,  and  with  the  same  patterns  placed 
before  us  to  assist  us  in  our  labor.  From  to-day  this  is  to  be 
so  no  more ;  but  before  we  go  our  various  ways,  it  will  do  us 
good  and  strengthen  us  for  the  future,  if  we  review  our  work, 
and  study  well  the  lesson  which  each  thread  may  give.  This 
work  is  our  own,  and  we  have  a  right  to  claim  as  ours  what 
ever  good  it  may  present,  as  well  as  whatever  failure  we  may 
see.  This  work  is  our  own,  but  our  own  as  everything  else 
which  we  may  claim  as  ours.  We  are  masters  of  circum 
stance,  but  circumstance  is  master,  too,  of  us.  Action  and 
reaction  are  ever  equal  in  the  world  of  mind  as  in  the  mate 
rial  universe,  and  while  we  assert  our  right  as  free  agents,  we 
ought  also  to  render  to  the  bright  examples  set  before  us  their 
rightful  part  in  the  progress  which  these  years  have  seen. 

Gratefully  would  we  remember  all  whose  lives  and  in 
fluence  have  served  to  guide  and  cheer  us.  Of  the  many  men 
who  have  stood  where  we  stand  to-day,  and  who  have  gone  to 
fight  the  fight  in  which  we  are  to  join,  —  ay,  and  who  have 
fought  it  well,  shedding  new  glory  on  the  dear  Mother  whose 
arms  we  leave  to-day, — there  is  no  one  but  will  gladly  render 
his  meed  of  gratitude  to  those  whose  patient  labor  served  to 
make  him  strong  for  the  contest,  whose  hands  helped  to  gird 
on  the  armor,  and  whose  voice  to  guide  him  to  victory.  Nor 
can  we  find  a  time  more  fitting,  nor  a  more  appropriate  place 
to  bear  our  witness  and  to  testify  to  our  appreciation,  than 
now  and  here. 

To  few  classes  in  a  four  years'  course  does  it  fall  to  render 
thanks  and  gratitude  to  three  presiding  officers.  We  did  not 
stand  in  person  under  the  ministrations  of  that  venerable 
man  whose  children  for  the  last  ten  years  have  risen  in  this 
place  and  called  him  blessed ;  but  his  mantle  descended  on 
that  scholar  and  that  gentleman  whose  genial  way  and  kindly 
interest  in  us  we  still  remember,  and  who  was  always  ready 


9-7 


to  cheer  us  with  his  sympathy  and  assist  us  with  his  counsel, 
as  we  essayed  to  walk  in  our  new  and  untried  path.  But  on 
our  third  return  to  College,  the  call  was  given,  "Come  up 
higher,"  and  new  fields  of  labor  received  our  guide  and 
friend.  The  year  that  followed  we  shall  ever  look  back  upon 
with  pleasure,  for  it  taught  us  to  love  the  childlike  simplicity 
of  character,  the  gentle  earnestness,  the  unselfish  devotion  to 
duty,  that  marked  its  flight.  The  office  claimed  our  respect, 
but  the  man  claimed  our  love,  and  both  respect  and  love  were 
rendered  freely  and  gladly ;  gladly,  that  sucli  an  opportunity 
was  given  us  to  feel  it ;  freely,  because  it  could  not  be  with 
held.  But  again  there  came  a  change,  and  as  time  and  occa 
sion  have  taught  us  to  recognize  the  firm  will  which  holds  its 
steady  way,  the  wise  judgment  which  guides,  and  the  strength 
of  purpose  which  shall  gain  the  goal  at  which  it  aims,  we  see 
that  wisdom  watched  over  and  directed  the  choice.  With 
these  bright  and  shining  examples  placed  before  our  eyes,  if 
we  fail  to  profit  by  their  teachings  both  by  word  and  deed, 
ours  and  not  theirs  is  the  fault ;  if  to  the  years  of  action  now 
before  us  we  bring  not  their  earnestness  of  character,  let 
them  know  to-day  that  the  responsibility  of  our  failure  lies 
with  us.  And  as  we  render  them  our  thanks,  we  would  with 
them  remember  all  our  instructors,  to  whom  we  owe  what 
ever  advance  we  have  made  in  their  respective  departments. 
Though  the  seed  fell  often  on  what  seemed  stony  ground,  in 
good  time  it  shall  bear  abundant  harvest.  Gratefully  we  re 
member  them  to-day  in  our  words  ;  in  the  future,  our  actions, 
showing  in  our  practice  the  influence  of  their  example,  shall 
speak  our  gratitude. 

But  this  is  not  all  that  these  years  have  given  us.  We 
stand  to-day,  as  it  were,  between  two  worlds,  and  as  through 
the  mind  of  the  drowning  man  passes  every  thought  and 
memory  of  his  past  life,  so  over  our  minds  now  comes  the 
remembrance  of  events  long  forgotten,  of  the  thoughts  and 
actions  which  in  these  four  years  have  made  up  our  life. 
Each  one  was  woven  into  our  work,  and  to-day  reappears  as 


23 

clear  and  bright  as  when  it  was  our  present.  College  friend 
ships ! —  No!  they  are  not  wholly  of  the  life  that  is  closing. 
Whatever  we  take  with  us  to  our  new  life,  our  friends  shall 
never  leave  us.  Were  the  warm  hearts  which  have  beat 
with  ours,  the  hands  which  we  have  clasped  in  friendship, 
and  the  voices  which  have  answered  to  our  own,  to  vanish 
with  the  sunlight  of  to-day,  they  might  almost  as  well  have 
never  been.  However  rocky  may  be  the  path  we  are  to  tread, 
however  hard  the  work  to  which  we  put  our  hands,  the 
thought  of  the  friends  by  whose  side  we  have  worked,  the 
friends  who  still  are  working  by  our  sides,  shall  strengthen- 
our  hands  with  renewed  vigor,  and  make  them  mightier  for 
the  contest.  Ah  !  why  speak  of  that,  when  we  know  that  the 
greatest  sorrow  we  shall  take  with  us  from  these  walls  is  the 
knowledge  that  never  again,  after  to-day,  shall  we  stand 
together  an  unbroken  band. 

But  from  the  many  thronging  memories,  what  shall  we 
choose  to  speak  of?  Where  every  thought  is  pleasant,  it  is 
hard  to  make  selection.  The  pleasant  evening  chat,  when 
the  day's  work  was  done,  and,  gathered  round  the  comfortable 
hearth,  the  song  and  jest  went  round  from  lip  to  lip ;  the 
spring  rambles  to  the  haunts  of  the  first  early  blossom,  and 
where  the  last  flower  braved  the  frosty  autumn  winds ;  the 
dreary  winter  mornings,  when,  poor  sleepy  wights !  roused 
by  the  stern  voice  of  duty,  shouting  out  her  summons  from 
the  neighboring  belfry,  we  trudged  through  sleet  and  snow, 
or  under  "  the  cold  light  of  stars,"  to  the  chapel  services ;  the 
mornings  drearier  still,  when,  having  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
duty's  voice,  some  kind  classmate  roused  us  in  time  for  the 
morning  recitation,  and,  half  waked,  reckless,  and  breakfast- 
less,  we  turned  our  course  to  University  Hall,  too  apt  on  such 
occasions  to  symbolize  the  life  of  man,  marching  but  from  our 
cradle  to  our  grave ;  the  hours  spent  in  the  swift  wherry  on 
"  the  winding  Charles"  ;  and  best  of  all,  our  club  meetings, 
where  we  met,  and  welded  still  stronger  the  bonds  of  friend 
ship  which  before  drew  -us  together ;  —  these  all  come  freshly 


24 

before  our  minds  to-day,  and  eacli  is  pleasant  to  recall,  though 
some  were  bitter  to  experience.  Nay,  our  very  reprimands 
and  privates  wear  a  pleasing  aspect,  seen  through  the  glamour 
which  the  past  spreads  over  them,  and  our  publics  —  how 
could  we  regret  them,  when  each  one,  as  it  came,  but  put  us 
more  strongly  in  mind  of  our  loved  Sixty-Four  ? 

But  other  sadder  memories  arise  before  us.  There  are 
many  who  have  stood  among  us  in  our  College  course  who 
stand  among  us  no  more.  It  is  but  fitting  that  to-day  we 
send  them  a  hearty  God-speed,  wherever  they  may  be.  Far 
and  wide  are  they  scattered,  who  in  these  years  have  clasped 
our  hands,  and  walked  by  our  side  along  these  familiar  paths. 
Our  Class  List  tells  us  that,  of  the  one  hundred  and  forty-four 
who  have  been  of  our  number,  to-day  but  ninety-six  stand 
together.  Where  the  waters  of  the  Mexican  Gulf  beat  upon 
the  Texan  reefs,  where  the  unshackled  Mississippi  bears 
along  his  whole  course  the  nation's  flag  ;  in  the  mountains 
of  Tennessee,  on  the  Carolina  swamps,  on  the  Virginian 
plains,  wherever  the  national  forces  stand,  there  stand  our 
brothers  of  the  Class  of  Sixty-Four.  And  as  we  think  of 
them,  perhaps  this  moment  standing  in  the  very  front  of 
battle,  let  us  think  tenderly  and  reverently  of  those  who 
have  dared  all,  and  have  done  all,  who  answered  "  Adsum  " 
to  the  call  of  duty,  and  sealed  their  offering  with  their  blood. 

There  stands  none  among  us  who  has  not,  since  the  blast 
of  the  battle-bugle  first  rang  through  the  land,  seen  the  best 
and  the  bravest  of  his  boyhood's  friends  gird  on  the  sword, 
and  stand  to  strike  his  blow  and  do  his  part  for  freedom  and 
his  native  land.  And  happy  may  he  count  himself,  if  the 
shadow  of  the  death-angel's  wing  has  not  struck  across  the 
bond  of  friendship,  and  left  him  to  write  with  trembling  hand 
and  bleeding  heart  against  the  young  renown  the  motto 
of  the  noble  knight  of  old,  —  "  Without  fear  and  without 
reproach.19 

And  as  a  Class,  too,  we  have  been  called  iipon  to  make 
the  great  sacrifice,  and  the  remembrance  of  Abbott  and  of 


25 

Chapin,  of  Hedges  and  of  Thurston,  is  the  most  sacred  of  all 
our  College  years  have  giver!  us.  And  within  the  past  week 
the  summons  has  again  been  sent,  and  the  funeral  bells  that 
perhaps  even  now  are  pealing  his  dirge,  and  the  martial 
music  that  is  sounding  forth  his  requiem,  tell  us  that  the 
name  of  the  young  and  well-beloved  Birney  has  been  added 
to  the  list  of  those  whom  we  have  loved  and  honored,  and 
who  have  been  accepted  as  our  offering  on  the  altar  of  our 
country.  Many  are  the  lessons  we  have  learned  within  these 
walls,  but  the  purest  and  the  most  enduring  of  them  all  is  . 
that  which  a  good  life,  crowned  by  a  noble  death,  has  taught. 
How  great  must  be  the  value  of  what  is  purchased  at  so  dear 
a  price ! 

"  But,  O  Fatherland  that  we  love  so  well, 
Shall  the  future's  annals,  shuddering,  tell 
It  was  all  in  vain  that  our  heroes  fell  ? 

"  We  give  them  up  at  thy  bitter  cry  ; 
We  speak  no  word  when  they  go  to  die  ; 
Is  it  Freedom's  dawn  that  reddens  the  sky  ? 

"  O  comrades,  sleep  well  in  your  soldier's  bed,  — 
Your  HERO  sleep  in  the  fields  of  our  dead  : 
We  know  who  watches  overhead." 

And  with  the  memory  of  our  soldier  brothers,  of  those  who 
have  passed  on,  and  those  who  still  are  here,  let  a  word  be 
given  to  those  who,  when  duty  seemed  divided  against  duty, 
chose  what  they  thought  the  better  part,  and  left  our  side. 
Where  they  are  we  know  not,  but  we  know  that  with  many 
the  choice  was  made  with  tears  and  sorrow,  and  we  believe 
that  with  them  all  the  head,  and  not  the  heart,  was  wrong. 
Who  can  weigh  the  power  of  early  associations,  arid  the 
strength  of  childhood's  ties  and  education  ?  It  behooves  us 
to  think  with  tenderness  of  their  misfortunes,  and  to  thank 
God  that  we  were  spared  the  trial  which  proved  too  strong 
for  them.  Have  we  been  so  true  to  duty  when  pleasure 
tempted  us  astray,  that  we  can  sit  in  judgment  upon  them, 
4 


26  • 

who  followed  what  they  thought  was  right  ?    Let  him  who  is 
without  sin  amongst  us  cast  the  first  stone. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  many  memories  to-day  recalls. 
Each  one  from  a  full  heart  can  complete  the  list ;  but  it  was 
fitting  that  these  general  interests  should  be  thus  specially 
remembered.  But  to-day  presents  a  twofold  aspect;  not 
only  is  it  the  close  of  the  past,  but  also  the  beginning  of  the 
future,  and  in  this  view  the  lessons  that  it  gives  are  even 
more  important. 

Among  the  many  beautiful  valleys  which  lie  embosomed 
among  New  Hampshire's  hills,  there  is  none  fairer  than  the 
one  which  holds  the  Saco  in  its  protecting  arms,  when  the 
stream,  having  left  in  his  swift  course  the  hamlet  of  Upper 
Bartlett,  turns  obliquely  to  the  south,  and  flows  through  the 
intervales  of  Conway.  Mountain  and  valley,  the  fresh  ver 
dure  of  the  meadow,  and  the  dashing,  foaming  stream,  com 
bine  to  give  at  every  moment  some  new  beauty  to  charm  the 
eye  and  please  the  mind.  At  the  head  of  this  valley,  turn 
ing  off  from  the  usual  line  of  travel,  an  old  country  road 
winds  along  the  side  and  crest  of  what  is  called  Thorn  Hill. 
Take  this  road  some  summer  morning,  before  the  purple 
light  of  that  mountain  region  throws  its  veil  over  the  distant 
ranges,  and,  before  you  reach  the  summit,  turn  and  view  the 
scene  that  lies  behind.  The  gleaming  river  winds  its  way 
along  in  alternate  light  and  shadow  ;  the  steeples  of  the  vil 
lage  and  the  white  houses,  as  they  peep  from  behind  the 
trees,  dot  the  landscape,  and  the  long  range  of  Mote,  with 
Chocorua  looking  over  his  shoulder  on  the  right,  and  majes 
tic  Kearsarge  upon  the  left,  stretch  their  gray  and  weather- 
beaten  sides  far  out  on  either  hand,  forming  a  worthy  frame 
for  the  lovely  picture  they  enclose.  Note  how  distance  has 
toned  down  the  sharper  colors,  and  softened  by  her  magic 
touch  what  at  a  nearer  view  seemed  rough  and  ungainly. 
It  is  a  picture  of  beauty  and  strength  combined,  which 
returns  to  the  mind  again  and  again,  and  asserts  its  claim 
when  far  removed  in  time  and  space. 


27 

Now  turn  and  cross  the  summit ;  the  quiet  beauty  of  the 
stream  and  valley  has  disappeared,  but  right  in  front,  raising 
his  glorious  forehead  to  the  morning  air,  king  of  a  thousand 
hills,  rises  before  you  in  one  grand  sweep  the  monarch  of  the 
realm,  —  Mount  Washington.  Along  his  sides,  seamed  and 
scarred  by  the  battles  of  the  elements,  wind  in  light  airy 
troops  the  pale  phantoms  of  the  mist,  as  they  sweep  around 
his  summit ;  and,  parting,  disclose  again  the  hoary  head 
which  has  seen  the  stars  pass  over  it  since  first  they  rolled 
their  fiery  chariots  across  the  dome  of  heaven. 

To-day  we  stand  on  that  hill-top ;  even  now  we  turn  to 
cross  it ;  behind  us  lies  the  valley  of  the  past,  which  for  the 
last  time  we  have  viewed  together,  and  which  in  its  quiet 
beauty  shall  often  return  to  us,  when  the  toils  of  life  lie  in 
our  path.  But  before  us  rises  in  its  calm  majesty  the  moun 
tain  of  our  hopes,  towards  which  we  are  to  press,  which  we 
see  clearly  though  so  far  removed,  which  in  all  our  wander 
ings  has  been  our  aim,  but  which  to-day  we  see,  as  we  have 
never  seen  it  before,  grand  and  glorious  in  all  its  large  pro 
portions.  Forward !  no  thought  upon  the  past ;  the  future 
claims  us  now,  and  in  our  onward  course,  though  our  road 
may  lie  through  valleys  where  the  sunlight  never  comes, 
where  the  trees  hang  thick  with  drops  which  constant  showers 
bring,  though  the  mist  shall  wrap  us  in  its  covering,  and 
shadows  lie  thick  across  our  path,  forward !  the  mountain 
and  pure  sunlight  are  before  us.  Lower  ridges  come  between 
us,  —  scale  them !  Beauty  lies  on  every  hand,  —  pause  not ! 
press  on,  and  at  the  evening  hour,  baring  our  forehead  to  the 
eternal  skies,  we  shall  stand  where  nothing  comes  between  us 
and  the  heavens.  Various  are  the  roads  which  we  shall  tread 
before  our  weary  feet  shall  press  the  summit :  what  matter  — 
so  they  all  lead  upwards  !  But  here  no  carriage-road  invites 
to  a  luxurious  ascent ;  steep  rocks  and  jagged  cliffs,  which 
only  the  strong  hand,  guided  by  the  strong  heart,  shall  con 
quer  ;  mountain  torrents,  which  foam  and  dash  down  dreadful 
chasms ;  ravines  to  cross,  through  which  the  wild  wind  roars, 


28 

and  across  which  sweep  the -blinding  clouds ;  toil  and  danger 
on  every  hand,  —  who  shall  conquer  these?  Only  he  whose 
spirit  is  strong  within  him,  and  who  has  faith  that  the  goal 
he  aims  at  is  no  wandering  phantom,  but  a  rock  with  its 
foundations  deep-set  in  the  earth,  and  enduring  as  the 
heavens. 

God  only  knows  what  path  we  each  shall  choose,  but  in 
each  one  of  us  he  has  implanted  the  power  to  walk  in  that 
path  wherever  it  may  lead :  whether  we  do  so  is  for  us  to 
say.  One  thing  let  us  remember, —  that,  the  steeper  and  more 
difficult  the  road,  the  sooner  is  the  summit  gained.  When 
the  path  lies  level  and  easy  before  us,  no  progress  towards 
the  real  end  is  made.  Life  is  found  in  conflict  alone.  He 
who  has  never  fought  can  never  know  the  joy  which  victory 
alone  can  give.  And  we  are  ready  for  the  fray.  The  mus 
cles  which  in  these  years  we  have  been  practising  shall  show 
their  strength  in  the  blows  that  they  shall  give  against  the 
wrong.  Hard  blows  !  Strong  blows  !  Never  flinch  !  The 
world  has  made  progress  since  we  entered  it,  and,  by  God's 
help,  it  shall  through  us  make  more  before  we  leave  it.  What 
weapon  shall  we  use  ?  Whatever  comes  ready  to  our  hands. 
Or  if  the  weapon  fail  us  at  our  need,  the  strong  right  hand 
of  an  earnest  man  can  leave  its  mark  upon  the  world. 

When,  three  years  ago,  the  cry  of  danger  sounded  through 
our  land,  men  did  not  wait  because  they  had  not  what  they 
would  most  like  to  give,  but  each  one  came,  bringing  what 
he  first  put  his  hand  to,  and  no  one  came  amiss.  And  that 
is  what  we  are  now  to  do.  To  batter  down  the  sin  and  error 
of  our  age,  every  tool  or  weapon  which  from  the  ores  we 
have  been  smelting  we  shall  forge  upon  the  anvil  of  the 
present  shall  find  its  fitting  work.  Some  of  us  will  shape 
the  cunning  pen,  which  from  the  merchant's  desk,  the  law 
yer's  office,  or  from  the  study  of  the  clergyman,  shall  wield 
its  potent  influence  to  bless  or  ban.  Some  will  forge  the 
ploughshare  and  the  pruning-hook,  and  seek  the  duties  and 
the  pleasures  of  a  farmer's  life.  The  teacher,  the  physician, 


29 

the  mechanic,  each  will  shape  his  necessary  implement  and 
use  it  in  his  daily  toil.  And  some  will  forge  the  gleaming 
sword,  and  take  their  stand  side  by  side  with  the  many  hun 
dreds  who  have  hung  among  the  peaceful  laurels  on  our 
College  walls  the  trophies  and  the  flags  which,  soiled  by  the 
dust  of  many  a  battle-field,  tell  that,  in  war  as  well  as  in  the 
peaceful  walks  of  life,  where  death  is  the  reward,  as  well  as 
where  life's  choicest  prizes  hang  before  our  grasp,  the  sons 
of  Harvard  are  never  found  wanting  in  all  that  goes  to  make 
up  the  man  and  the  gentleman,  the  true-hearted  warrior  and 
the  honored  patriot. 

Let  no  one  cast  slurs  upon  the  more  retired  walk  of  life 
another  one  may  choose.  The  marble  which  the  school-boy 
holds  within  his  hand  is,  in  its  way,  perfect  as  the  grand 
planet,  who"  with  his  attendant  satellites  sweeps  through  the 
infinite  void,  and  joins  the  choral  song  of  the  morning  stars. 
It  is  no  matter  what  our  toil  may  be,  so  we  work  with  all  the 
strength  of  our  hands  and  the  cunning  of  our  brain,  so  we 
leave  the  world  richer  when  we  bid  it  farewell  than  when  we 
entered  it,  so  we  have  helped  on  the  great  progress  of  the 
age. 

0  my  classmates  !  0  my  brothers  !  this  is  no  common 
time  when  we  are  called  to  the  more  active  work  of  life. 
The  waves  that  have  beat  against  the  rock  on  which  our 
country  stands,  still  howl  and  dash  to  hurl  her  from  her 
strong  foundation.  Next  to  our  duty  to  our  God  stands  the 
claim  our  country  has.  To  her  we  owe  whatever  we  most 
prize  and  have, — our  homes,  our  memories,  our  hopes.  To 
her  we  must  give  whatever  we  most  prize  and  have,  —  our  past, 
our  present,  and  our  future.  The  sacrifices  she  demands 
are  not  always  to  be  offered  on  the  battle-field.  They  are 
not  the  only  patriots  and  heroes  who  go  to  do  her  battles ; 
but  whoever  speaks  a  word  in  the  defence  of  her  cherished 
institutions,  whoever  stands  to  answer  the  malignant  sneer, 
the  covert  allusion,  which  betray  the  mind  too  cowardly  to 
stand  openly  for  what  it  thinks  the  right,  but  small  enough 


30 

and  mean  enough  to  add  to  its  country's  troubles  in  the  hour 
of  her  anguish,  by  traducing  the  motives,  the  intentions,  and 
the  actions  of  her  defenders  in  the  capital  and  in  the  field,  — 
they,  too,  are  doing  their  part  in  the  great  work  the  age  has 
given  to  this  nation.  Whether  high  or  low,  whether  short 
or  long,  life  is  our  own  to  make  of  it  what  we  will.  Not 
only  on  the  battle-field,  or  where  the  tossing  vessel  seals  the 
hostile  port,  does  our  country  claim  our  help  ;  not  only  now, 
in  the  hour  of  her  peril  and  her  danger,  but  at  home,  and  for 
our  whole  life  long,  however  long  we  live,  and  wherever  our 
duty  calls  us,  our  duty  to  America  is  always  to  be  performed. 
Not  only  is  the  sword  to  defend  her  from  injury,  but  the  pen 
from  insult ;  and  the  heart  and  the  life  are  to  guard  her  from 
danger  and  raise  her  to  her  own  among  the  nations ;  and 
when  she  stands,  as  stand  she  will,  regenerated  and  with  the 
light  of  freedom  shining  on  her  forehead,  it  shall  be  ours  to 
say,  We,  too,  have  done  our  part  to  free  our  native  land. 

And  so,  with  the  light  shinmg  cheerily  upon  our  path,  we 
go  to  take  our  place  among  the  workers  of  the  world.  A 
place  awaits  each  one  of  us  ;  this  we  must  fill,  or  none. 
There  is  no  lesson  the  truth  of  which  we  are  so  sure  to  learn, 
as  that  we  can  never  escape  our  work,  turn  we  where  we 
will.  When  we  think  that  we  have  most  cunningly  avoided  it, 
and  most  congratulate  ourselves  on  our  success,  lo  !  right  in 
front  of  us  it  stands,  and  looks  us  face  to  face  with  pitiless 
and  stony  gaze.  There  can  be  no  avoidance  of  our  work : 
it  must  be  met  and  conquered ;  and  the  sooner  we  set  our 
selves  to  the  task,  the  more  easily  is  the  work  completed. 

Then  up,  with  a  strong  hand  and  a  resolute  will  to  the 
toil.  Strengthen  the  purpose  with  all  the  failures  of  the 
past ;  encourage  it  by  all  the  prospects  of  the  future,  —  but 
never  falter. 

By  all  the  memories  of  these  College  days,  now  hastening 
so  swiftly  to  their  close,  by  the  strong  ties  of  friendship  we 
have  formed  within  these  walls,  by  the  bright  examples  of 
faithfulness  to  duty  placed  before  our  eyes,  by  our  love  of 


31 

country  and  our  love  of  God,  let  us  so  acquit  ourselves,  that, 
when  our  history  as  a  Class  is  ended,  some  hand  shall  write 
upon  the  opening  leaf  of  the  class-book  of  the  Class  of  Sixty- 
Four  :  "  These  are  they  who,  whether  before  the  world  or  in 
retired  walks  of  life,  sought  not  their  own  renown,  but, 
taking  right  and  duty  as  their  guides,  fought  the  good  fight 
till  they  were  called  to  their  reward.  These  are  they  whom 
their  countrymen  delighted  to  honor,  and  whom  their  Alma 
Mater  has  enrolled  among  the  not  least  honored  of  her 


POEM. 


ISAAC    FLAGG. 


'  The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 
The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion." 


FAR  through  the  deepening  shadows  of  the  Past 
With  wondering  silence  we  direct  our  gaze, 
To  penetrate  the  gloomy  clouds  that  cast 
Their  dimness  round  the  scenes  of  ancient  days, 
Beyond  that  shadowy  distance  to  review 

The  deeds  that  rolling  centuries  have  wrought, 
An  hundred  lives  within  a  single  thought, 
The  Old  and  Dead  beside  the  living  New. 

The  worn  and  faded  chronicles  of  old 
Their  legendary  histories  reveal, 
And  from  the  ruins  of  the  Past  unfold 
The  grandeur  that  forgetful  years  conceal, 
And  they  who  lived  before  those  ruins  fell 
Repeat  instruction  to  our  listening  ear, 
Command  Oblivion's  shades  to  disappear, 
And  to  our  minds  its  buried  secrets  tell. 

Each  towering  city's  walls  resist  in  vain 
Relentless  Time,  but  fall  before  his  might 
Who  scatters  desolation  o'er  the  plain, 
Where  monuments  of  glory  reared  their  height  ; 
The  thoughts  of  men  dread  not  his  wasting  power, 
That  from  the  Spirit  never  dying  spring, 
Themselves  immortal,  and  its  influence  bring 
From  distant  ages  to  the  present  hour. 

5 


34 


No  death  feel  they,  but  live  forever  on,  — 
On  through  the  course  of  swiftly  transient  years  ; 
Live  when  bright  Memory's  lingering  light  is  gone, 
Live  in  our  lives,  evoke  our  smiles  and  tears  ; 
Departed  cities  rest  in  sleep  profound, 

Nor  doth  a  voice  the  mournful  stillness  break, 
Until  reviving  words  of  heroes  wake 
Resounding  echoes  from  the  silent  ground. 

While  the  long-buried  Past  unfolds  to  view 
The  changes  that  destructive  Time  has  made, 
Deserted  waste  where  mighty  empires  grew, 
And  shining  marble  low  in  ruin  laid,  — 
Let  no  dark  cloud  of  sadness  dim  the  eye, 

Because  earth's  beauteous  structures  pass  away, 
For,  like  the  silent  star  's  unvarying  way, 
The  human  spirit  shall  all  change  defy. 

Through  every  age  the  same  the  human  mind 
In  every  feature  still  unchanged  remains, 
To  cheerful  aspiration  still  inclined, 
However  doomed  to  disappointment's  pains  ; 
Love  of  the  beautiful  and  good  is  there, 

Ambition,  valor,  friendship,  faith,  and  praise, 
Undying  hope  through  sorrow's  darkest  days, 
And  gentle  patience  under  wasting  care. 

Upon  these  later  days  the  rising  Truth 
Has  dawned  in  beauty  o'er  the  mind  and  heart, 
Fulfilled  the  promise  of  its  hopeful  youth, 
Shedding  the  light  that  Christian  words  impart ; 
Yet  ancient  reverence  has  not  passed  away, 
But  still  retains  its  power  within  us  all, 
And  still  the  feelings  of  our  hearts  recall 
Long  lost  religions  of  the  ancient  day. 

For  if  perchance  the  fancy  should  essay 

To  imitate  the  bards  of  olden  fame, 

In  forms  divine  our  feelings  to  array, 

And  lend  each  passion's  power  a  living  name ; 


35 


New  forms  and  names  for  every  hope  and  fear 
The  mythic  song  of  ancient  Greece  could  yield, 
And  in  men's  souls  her  deities  concealed 

Born  to  another  life  would  reappear. 

In  that  famed  land  of  Greece,  across  the  sea, 
Where  poetry  and  learning  had  their  home, 
Whose  rocky  shores  the  waters  rough  and  free 
Still  beat  with  dashing  waves  of  briny  foam ; 
Mysterious  deities  and  forms  divine 

Peopled  the  tangled  woods  and  mountains  gray, 
The  vales  where  winding  rivers  rolled  their  way, 
The  slopes  where  grew  the  purple-clustered  vine. 

There  Pan,  the  sylvan  god  of  herds  and  flocks, 
With  cloven  foot  traversed  the  fertile  ground, 
Rehearsed  his  music  to  the  echoing  rocks, 
Till  forests  bent  their  heads  to  catch  the  sound ; 
There  dwelt  on  rising  hill  and  mountain  glade, 
Guarding  the  groves  that  shaded  city  towers, 
The  sister  Nymphs  among  the  woodland  flowers, 
To  whom  the  Greeks  their  solemn  worship  paid. 

And  under  every  fountain's  falling  spray 
Some  Naiad  had  her  watery  dwelling-place, 
Who  rose  to  greet  the  traveller  on  his  way, 
Or  cheered  the  huntsman  from  the  tiresome  chase  ; 
In  her  remembered  name  the  fount  received 
A  gift  of  thankfulness  and  grateful  prayer 
From  all  who  found  refreshing  coolness  there, 
And  all  whose  pain  her  sparkling  waves  relieved. 

From  deep  concealment  in  the  knotted  oak 
Were  gentle  Dryads'  rustling  voices  heard, 
Who  oft  within  the  dark-green  foliage  spoke, 
When  by  the  breeze  the  trembling  branches  stirred, 
And  various  were  the  words  they  seemed  to  say, 
Joyful  before  the  summer  days  had  passed, 
But  sighing  mournfully  when  autumn's  blast 
Their  dry  and  withered  leaves  had  swept  away. 


36 


And  we  at  Nature's  altar  offer  praise 

To  sacred  Nymphs  and  Dryads  of  our  own, 

Who  haunt  the  lost  scenes  of  our  early  days, 

Whence  all  but  these  fair  guardians  now  have  flown  ; 

Within  the  firefly's  spark  their  watch-lights  burn 

Through  sultry  evening,  and  their  music  floats 

Upon  the  sad  cicada's  plaintive  notes, 
That  bid  forgotten  hours  again  return. 

When  the  lone  huntsman  hears  his  rifle  ring, 
Reverberating  o'er  the  wood-bound  lake, 
Till  neighboring  mountains  back  its  echoes  fling, 
And  startled  birds  in  fear  their  nests  forsake  ; 
He  finds  the  deities  of  Nature  there, 

He  hears  their  voices  through  the  rustling  pines, 
From  rocky  caverns  clad  in  clambering  vines, 
He  feels  their  light  breath  on  the  wavering  air. 

Wandering  'mid  Helicon's  luxuriant  shade, 

Or  in  the  cool  retreats  of  Haemus'  vale, 

Where  the  bright  buds  of  summer  latest  fade, 

Where  rivulet  and  fountain  never  fail ; 

The  Muses  cherished  poetry  and  song, 

Whose  melody,  from  Grecian  mountains  heard, 
The  souls  of  men  with  inspiration  stirred, 

As  o'er  the  winding  slopes  it  swept  along. 

When  fierce  oppression  crushed  their  favorite  land, 
The  Muses  sung  on  Grecian  hills  no  more, 
When  in  the  chains  of  slavery  drooped  the  hand 
That  hurled  the  Persian  from  the  Attic  shore  ; 
But  those  inspiring  strains  they  still  renew 

Wherever  timid  Freedom  finds  a  home  ; 

And  through  our  rugged  Northern  woods  they  roam, 
Where  the  dusk  Indian  launched  his  bark  canoe. 

With  sweet  harmonious  voice  the  Muses  speak, 
Soothing  despondent  hearts  by  hopes  of  rest, 
No  suppliant  can  in  vain  their  favor  seek, 
Who  offer  comfort  to  the  mourning  breast : 


37 


Through  trumpet  call  and  strains  of  martial  bands, 
They  cheer  the  soldier  on  against  his  foe, 
And  for  his  painful  victories  bestow 

The  laurels  from  a  grateful  nation's  hands. 

In  ruin  rest  the  Grecian  temples  now, 
And  statues  of  the  gods  of  costly  stone, 
Their  towering  mansion  on  Olympus'  brow 
Amid  the  sombre  cloud  is  left  alone ; 
Yet  all  the  Olympian  gods  are  reigning  still, 
Their  glory  still  unmindfully  we  praise, 
And,  reverencing  their  majesty,  we  raise 
Temples  to  satisfy  their  sovereign  will. 

Our  fathers  founded  learning's  temples  here, 
Where  colleges  throughout  our  land  arise, 
The  starting-point  of  youthful  life's  career, 
Where  future  greatness  all  unconscious  lies  ; 
Herein  Minerva,  Queen  of  Wisdom,  reigns, 
Accepting  worship  from  the  mind  of  youth, 
For  whom  she  points  the  way  to  sacred  Truth, 
Turning  their  steps  from  Error's  dark  domains. 

These  walls  Minerva's  presence  makes  divine, 
She  claims  these  aged  structures  as  her  own, 
And  all  who  bow  sincere  before  her  shrine 
Shall  tread  a  path  with  wreaths  of  honor  strown  ; 
As  through  the  honor  of  this  sacred  name 
The  light  of  ancient  Athens  is  renewed, 
Wherefrom  Athena's  warlike  statue  viewed 
The  distant  ships  that  heralded  her  fame. 

But  here,  where  learning's  goddess  rules  supreme, 

Still  other  ancient  deities  are  found, 

Who,  like  the  phantoms  in  a  fleeting  dream, 

Diffuse  a  magic  influence  around, 

Enticing  youth  to  worship  at  their  shrines, 

To  crown  their  altars  with  luxurious  flowers. 

Claiming  the  services  of  idle  hours 
When  studiousness  for  relaxation  pines. 


38 


Perchance,  at  times,  within  the  College  walls, 
The  far-famed  Bacchus  of  the  clustering  vine 
Attends  a  scene  of  revel,  that  recalls 
Those  Bacchanalian  worshippers  of  wine, 
Who  once  on  stern  Cithaeron's  thorny  heights 
Offered  their  furious  song  and  frantic  prayer, 
With  hideous  music  through  the  darkened  air 
Marring  the  stillness  of  autumnal  nights. 

Often  by  clouds  of  curling,  circling  smoke 
That  lift  a  fragrant  incense  on  their  fumes, 
His  worshippers  assemble  to  invoke 
The  sooty  Vulcan  to  their  jovial  rooms, 
And  laughter  irrepressible  goes  up 

'Mid  mirthful  story,  jest,  and  merry  song, 
As  here  from  hand  to  hand  are  passed  along 
The  social  pipe  of  peace  and  foaming  cup. 

The  winged  Mercury,  whose  wisdom  brought 
Gymnastics  to  the  earliest  men  of  earth, 
Whose  form  of  strength  and  manly  beauty  taught 
What  healthful  sport  and  exercise  are  worth, 
May  here  his  youthful  votaries  behold 

Upon  the  wide  Gymnasium's  polished  floor, 

Renewing  feats  that  centuries  before 
Nerved  the  hard  muscles  of  the  men  of  old. 

At  eve,  embarking  in  swift-sailing  boats, 
They  glide  along  the  river's  sinuous  length, 
Beside  the  shell  old  Neptune's  chariot  floats, 
Who  pours  through  youthful  veins  exultant  strength 
Under  low-arching  bridge  with  glancing  oar 
They  pass  beyond  the  quiet  river's  tide, 
Until  on  Ocean's  heaving  swell  they  ride 
Beneath  the  shadows  of  a  city's  shore. 

Apollo,  lover  of  the  mountain  lyre,  t 
The  first  \vho  tuned  its  lightly  quivering  strings, 
Here  leads  the  voices  of  a  Gleeful  choir, 
Whose  harmony  in  loud  accordance  rings  ; 


39 


And  his  awakening  spirit  bids  arise 
The  melody  of  sweet  Pierian  strains, 
Until  his  harp  its  former  joy  regains,  — 

The  joy  it  knew  beneath  the  Grecian  skies. 

And  Ceres,  goddess  of  the  golden  grain, 

To  whom  the  Greeks  mysterious  homage  paid, 

From  Athens  leading  forth  a  stately  train 

With  torchlight  flickering  through  the  olive  shade, 

Her  Eleusinian  mysteries  resumes, 

And  weekly  rites  demand  her  guardian  care, 
When  jocund  chorus  strikes  the  evening  air 
Emerging  from  the  "  Hasty-Pudding  "  rooms. 

But  all  these  guardian  spirits  love  to  meet 
The  dear  assemblage  of  this  honored  day, 
With  welcome  all  our  fairest  friends  to  greet, 
And  add  their  presence  to  the  bright  array ; 
Their  flitting  forms  arrest  my  wandering  eye, 
The  airy  Graces,  and  the  white-robed  Hours, 
Venus  adorned  with  June's  abundant  flowers, 
And  Zephyrs  fanning  Beauty  as  they  fly. 

Now  may  their  gracious  influence 
Gently  on  you,  O  friends,  descending, 

Be  to  you  safety  and  defence, 

All  ill  forefending, 
Lighting  your  lifetime's  varied  flight, 
Like  moonbeams  through  the  clouds  of  night. 

And  even  as  we  welcome  you, 
Look  well  on  us  who  now  forever 

To  Alma  Mate*r  bid  adieu, 

Adieu  forever, 

Leaving  her  broad  wing's  sheltering  care, 
To  spread  our  pinions  on  the  air. 

While  we,  O  classmates,  undertake 
To  speak  concerning  this  transition, 

Looking  behind  where  old  scenes  break 
Upon  our  vision, 


40 

As  the  young  eagles  turn  their  eye, 
When  from  the  aerie  first  they  fly. 

O  Cambridge,  list  to  our  adieu, 
City  of  "  thoroughgoing  "  flatness, 

We  sigh  for  four  years  more  with  you, 

We  sigh  with  sadness, 

Your  scenes  shall  o'er  our  memories  creep,  — 
Of  herds  and  circumambient  sheep. 

Your  chimes  will  vibrate  in  our  ears 
When  we  are  old,  in  future  ages, 

Your  memory  will  move  us  to  tears 

When  East-wind  rages. 
Warm  thoughts  of  you  will  brightly  glow, 
When  furious  April  snow-storms  blow. 

Now  yon  secluded  College  green 
To  our  departing  words  must  listen, 

Where  shady  waving  elms  are  seen, 
Whose  bright  leaves  glisten 
Above  familiar  College  halls, 
And  rustle  round  their  ancient  walls. 

In  weather-beaten  brick  arrayed 
Long  have  those  buildings  pressed  their  bases, 

For  centuries  have  they  surveyed 

Each  other's  faces, 

Turning  toward  the  street  their  backs 
On  cattle-dusted  railroad  tracks. 

Thus  the  new  hall  so  late  erected, 
After  judicious  hesitation, 

With  sterling  sense  at  last  selected 

A  fixed  location, 

That  truthful  face  turned  to  the  others 
Its  more  experienced  elder  brothers. 

O  classmates,  in  those  brick-bound  halls 
Together  have  we  kept  our  dwelling  ; 
How  many  thoughts  their  name  recalls 
Old  love  compelling, 


41 


Their  look  such  confidence  assures, 

"  Who  wonders  that  we  come  out  boors  "  ? 

Their  spacious  rooms  have  been  our  homes, 
Light  feet  have  trod  those  u  dingy  entries," 
Where  the  untrammelled  spider  roams, 

And  fears  no  sentries  ; 
Whatever  Abigails  may  think, 
We  would  not  have  them  painted  pink  ! 

From  one  brick  edifice  the  bell 
Proclaims  commands  of  early  rising, 

The  woful  tales  its  tongue  might  tell 

Would  sound  surprising, 
That  voice  to  students  yet  unborn 
Shall  usher  in  the  welcome  morn. 

Within  this  building  with  a  bell 
The  Muse  of  History  has  her  station, 

Exhaustless,  deep,  pellucid  well 

Of  information. 

She  drags  old  nobles  from  their  graves, 
And  bids  Britannia  rule  the  waves. 

One  lingering  look  let  us  bestow 
On  Alchemy's  dark  laboratory, 

Where  stalks  the  ghost  of  old  Regnault, 

Diffusing  glory 

Through  that  sepulchral  pile  of  stones, 
"Most  fitly  filled  with  dead  men's  bones. 

'T  was  there  the  famous  "  Spartan  Band  " 
Did  perpetrate  their  grand  "  reaction  "  ; 

Reorganized  their  native  land 

By  force  of  faction, 
Until  the  ghost  of  old  Regnault 
Shook  like  a  corn-stalk  with  the  blow. 

Far  more  imposing  powers  than  this, 
Which  to  all  others  bid  defiance, 
6 


42 

Reign  in  yon  white  stone  edifice, 

Temple  of  science,  — 
Wherein  the  learning  of  all  ages 
Repeats  itself  in  modern  sages. 

At  the  dead  hour  of  Monday  night, 
In  synagogue  by  gaslight  sitting, 

They  legislate  as  seemeth  right 

And  most  befitting ; 
They  are  the  College's  suspenders, 
To  elevate  or  drop  offenders. 

There  most  divine  Philosophy 
Maintains  a  lofty  elevation, 

And  Rhetoric  abides  close  by 

Her  near  relation ; 
There,  to  instruct  our  youthful  wits, 
The  Hierarch  of  Concepts  sits. 

Above  the  other  spiral  stair 
Philology  pours  forth  her  glory, 

And  classic  voices  whisper  there 

Through  ancient  story, 
Voices  whose  tone  to  all  who  know  them 
Is  "prater  expectationem." 

Between  the  two  sits  Eloquence, 
And  there  preserves  such  wondrous  stillness, 

That  most  perchance  would  argue  hence 

Some  serious  illness : 
Fear  not,  't  is  but  her  sleepy  way,  — 
She  wakes  on  Exhibition  Day. 

Astronomy  dwells  in  that  hall,  — 
That  same  white  hall  of  shining  granite  ; 

She  looks  from  this  revolving  ball 

To  star  and  planet, 

And,  swayed  by  their  imperious  force, 
She  imitates  their  changeless  course. 


43 


0  Alchemy,  Philosophy, 
Remorseless  Logic,  Saxon  story, 

O  Faculty,  Philology, 

O  Oratory, 

Impossible  with  one  adieu 
To  leave  so  numerous  friends  as  you ! 

Reduce  them  all  to  Mathesis  ; 
All  science  is  in  her  united ; 

Through  her  mouth  all  may  take  one  kiss, 

And  none  be  slighted  ; 
Ah  !  thus  may  we  accomplish  this  ; 
Adieu  to  all  in  Mathesis  ! 

Still  further  scenes  might  we  review,  — 
A  multitude  too  vast  to  mention ; 

In  memory  they  spring  up  anew, 

Call  new  attention,  — 
Till  these  four  years  appear  to  be 
A  prceterite  eternity. 

But  the  long  Future  still  remains, 
Whose  dark  "  extension  "  gathers  o'er  us  ; 

Whose  dim  "  unqualified  "  domains 

Expand  before  us ; 
Vainly  we  strain  our  eager  gaze 
Into  the  gloom  of  coming  days. 

O  thou  obscure  Futurity  ! 
Answer  a  few  interrogations, 

About  our  public  destiny 

Or  home  relations  : 
Who  first  shall  hear  his  baby  snore 
Rocked  to  the  tune  of  Sixty-Four  ? 

Who  first  shall  take  his  station  there 
Where  learned  judges  are  the  actors, 

And  bonds  for  keeping  peace  declare 

To  malefactors,  — 
Even  suspension  to  pronounce 
Worse  than  his  own  in  College  once  ? 


Perchance  to  one  of  us  has  Fate 
Reserved  the  imperial  elevation ; 

Where  he  may  grasp  the  helm  of  state 

To  steer  the  nation, 
And  hither  send  his  eldest  son 
As  his  own  father  once  had  done ! 

Who  first  shall  gird  his  armor  on, 
Inspired  by  martial  resolution, 

Life,  love,  and  honor  staked  upon 

The  Constitution; 

To  rally  round  the  stripes  and  stars, 
And  show  their  colors  in  his  scars  ? 

Let  the  eventful  Past  reveal 
What  the  Future  would  conceal ! 
On  the  Delta's  grassy  ground, 
Once  a  fierce  vociferous  sound 
Floating  on  the  breezes  came 
From  the  annual  football  game. 
But  four  fleeting  years  ago, 
Fate  had  struck  the  football  low ; 
Buried  sadly  'neath  the  sod, 
Where  contending  classes  trod, 
Planted  deep  the  grass  beneath, 
Like  the  Theban  dragon's  teeth, 
Whence  a  bristling  warrior  band 
Thrust  their  spears  above  the  land. 
Autumn  winds  had  ceased  to  blow, 
Spring  had  melted  winter  snow  ; 
Lo  the  same  strange  fruit  had  grown, 
Where  the  football  seed  was  sown ! 
Men  in  warlike  ranks  arrayed, 
Arms  of  pointed  steel  displayed  ; 
List  to  words  that  may  proclaim 
Whence  such  wondrous  harvest  came  ! 

Long  had  Minerva,  Queen  of  Wisdom,  found 
Her  highest  happiness  in  quiet  learning ; 


45 


Mildly  she  dealt  the  gifts  of  Peace  around ; 
Upon  her  altar  peaceful  flame  was  burning. 
Useless  now  seemed  the  shield  and  spear 
"Which  anciently  her  valor  trusted; 
Her  sword,  undrawn  from  year  to  year, 
Within  its  sheath  had  rusted, 
So  she  seemed  to  heed  no  more 
The  warlike  mail  she  wore  ;  — 
When  sudden  bells  pealed  forth  united  sound, 
And  unseen  armies  started  from  the  ground, 
Whose  new-born  soldiers  at  their  leader'^  call 
Passed  on  to  strike  lest  Freedom's  home  should  fall ; 
Then  from  its  sheath  her  blade  the  goddess  drew, 
And  .near  its  sheen  her  eye  with  ardor  glistened ; 
Forgotten  words  of  war  she  breathed  anew, 
Addressing  us,  her  children,  as  we  listened :  — 

"  This  shield  and  sword  were  of  old  my  weapons  of  fame, 
Which  taught  that  wisdom  from  warlike  achievements  came, 
When  my  glory  shone  forth  in  peace  and  in  battle  the  same : 
Again  am  I  Pallas  for  whom  the  Athenians  bled ; 
Go  hence  to  the  field,  and  remember  the  words  I  have  said,  - 
Remember,  all  wisdom  is  gone  whence  Freedom  is  fled  ! "    ' 

How  many  hearkened  to  those  words  of  truth, 
Remember  we,  O  classmates,  one  and  all, 
Who  left  behind  fair  scenes  beloved  by  youth, 
In  answer  to  a  suffering  country's  call ; 
The  dangers  to  withstand  that  might  befall 
On  distant  Southern  battle-field,  away 
Where  terrors  rise  in  visions  to  appall 
The  veterans  of  many  a  conflict's  day, 
More  terrible  to  youth,  which  liveth  to  be  gay. 

There  have  they  toiled  amid  the  strife  of  war, 

And  some  returning  thence,  our  welcome  heard  ; 

Perchance  again  that  cause  to  join  wherefor 

They  strove  with  ardor  by  its  summons  stirred ; 

While  some  —  would  that  my  voice  knew  not  the  word  — 


46 


Found  living  honor  there  but  mixed  with  death, 
Which  changeless  fate  forbid  should  be  deferred, 
Yielding  to  hostile  air  the  silent  breath, 
From  home's  dear  sights  afar,  where  no  friend  listeneth. 

When  oft  had  they  the  wind's  low  whisper  heard, 
At  night-watch  sigh  through  unfamiliar  trees, 
On  memory's  wing  their  hopeful  thoughts  recurred 
Hither,  where  waving  elms  bend  to  a  breeze, 
Through  which  not  yet  offended  Nature  sees 
Her  children's  steel  against  her  bosom  turned ; 
And  thus  they  loved  their  lonely  hours  to  please, 
With  us  their  heart,  their  eye  where  camp-fires  burned, 
Nor  knew  they  how  in  vain,  for  all  in  vain  they  yearned. 

In  many  a  home  the  tears  of  sorrow  flow 
From  friends  who  weep  through  silent  hours  of  night ; 
Where  Grief  has  hung  her  dismal  weeds  of  woe, 
And  Hope  has  vanished  from  the  mourner's  sight. 
O  that  our  words  could  but  restore  the  light 
That  changed  to  darkness  when  our  classmates  fell ! 
Then  once  again  should  saddened  eyes  grow  bright, 
To  read  what  monumental  stone  shall  tell 
Their  names,  who  passed  away  so  young  and  yet  so  well. 

But  were  there  no  sad  absence  to  lament, 
If  every  well-remembered  face  were  here, 
Yet,  when  our  College  day  is  nearly  spent, 
Its  twilight  shades  might  well  demand  a  tear, 
To  mourn  the  ending  of  a  day  so  dear. 
Now  farewell  words  display  their  solemn  power, 
To  wake  forgotten  scenes  that  reappear 
With  new  attractions  at  the  parting  hour, 
When  o'er  the  brightest  spots  the  darkest  shadows  lower. 

Thus  while  the  summer  of  the  wandering  year 

Unites  the  smiles  of  life  on  earth  and  sky, 

Of  all  the  radiant  days  that  linger  here 

These  seem  the  brightest  as  their  moments  fly  ;  — 

Yet  when  mild  summer's  breath  has  hurried  by, 


47 


And  icy  storms  from  arctic  regions  blow, 
The  beam  of  cheerfulness  still  lights  our  eye, 
Though  what  we  loved  before  lies  dead  below, 
Enwrapt  in  chilly  wreaths  of  earth-enshrouding  snow. 

'T  is  when  the  withering  autumn  sighs  farewell, 
Then  all  lament  for  summer's  dying  day, 
When  the  sad  murmurs  of  the  wind  foretell 
A  sure  destruction  to  the  green  array ;  — 
Too  soon  must  our  wide  wandering  footsteps  stray, 
Scattered  like  autumn  leaves  that  wild  gales  blow ; 
Nor  will  our  parting  sorrows  fade  away, 
Till  cold  forgetfulness  has  spread  its  snow, 
Concealing  youthful  friendship's  wasted  form  below. 


CLASS     ODE. 


BY    CHARLES    HENRY    COXE. 


THE  day  of  our  parting,  its  hope,  its  regret, 
Find  our  thoughts  going  over  the  years 
Too  endeared  by  our  brotherhood  e'er  to  forget, 

And  their  memory  softens  yet  cheers  ; 
For  they  tell  us  of  comrades  whose  lot  was  to  fall 

In  the  Right's  bitter  struggle  with  Wrong, 
And  days,  happy  days,  they  light  up  and  recall, 
To  yield  all  their  joy  to  our  song. 

IT. 

And  we  turn  from  the  days  we  have  left  in  the  past 

To  question  the  days  still  to  be, 
In  the  trust  that  our  love  shall  endure  to  the  last 

For  the  Truth  and,  dear  Mother,  for  thee. 
Thou  hast  nurtured  us,  given  us  strength  to  achieve,  - 

Be  our  purposes  holy  and  high, 
And  our  work  too  well  done  e'er  to  wish  to  retrieve 

When  our  pilgrimage  sees  the  end  nigh. 

HI. 

Be  thy  blessing  upon  us,  to  cheer,  to  inspire 
In  the  service  where  Duty  commands, 

To  enkindle  our  zeal  with  a  holier  fire, 
To  impart  a  new  might  to  our  hands. 

7 


50 


Yes,  our  pride  as  thy  sons  shall  incite  us  through  life, 

None  the  less  in  our  trouble  and  pain ; 
We  shall  press  with  fresh  vigor,  wherever  the  strife, 

If  thine  be  the  honor  we  gain. 

IV. 

And  the  summons  is  sounding  that  bids  us  away 

To  fields  where  is  loss,  where  is  gain  ; 
There  to  strive,  with  a  purpose,  made  firmer  each  day, 

For  the  peace  we  may  some  time  attain. 
Precious  seed  bear  we  hence,  which  but  sow  we  broadcast, 

Be  it  either  in  joy  or  in  tears, 
We  shall  come,  bringing  sheaves  with  us,  home  at  the  last, 

Redeemed  from  all  sorrow  and  fears. 


CLASS     SONG. 

BY    F.    T.    WASHBURN. 
TUNE, —  Russian  National  Air. 

MEET  we  again  for  one  more  friendly  greeting, 
Grasp  we  each  other  once  more  by  the  hand, 
Quickly,  too  quickly  the  moments  are  fleeting, 
Broken  and  scattered  must  soon  be  our  band. 

Friends  have  we  found  here,  whose  friendship  shall  never 
Cease  till  the  current  of  life  flow  no  more, 
Seas  may  divide  us,  but  ne'er  shall  they  sever 
Hearts  that  beat  true  to  our  own  Sixty-Four. 

Fondly  we  think  on  the  place  we  are  leaving, 
Boldly  we  seek  what  the  future  may  give, 
Knowledge  and  strength  we  have  here  been  receiving, 
God  grant  us  all  that  we  know  how  to  live. 

Onward  we  '11  .march,  then,  with  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
Ready  to  meet  all  that  life  has  in  store, 
Blood  leaping  quicker,  and  hearts  beating  bolder, 
As  we  remember  our  dear  Sixty-Four. 


CLASS-DAY     OFFICERS. 


Orator. 
GEORGE    CALLENDER    BRACKETT,  Somerville,  Mass. 

Poet. 

ISAAC    FLAGG,   Somervil/e,  Mass. 

Odist. 
CHARLES    HENRY    COXE,  Philadelphia,  Penn. 

Chief  Marshal. 
CHARLES    COOLIDGE    READ,   Cambridge. 

Assistant  Marshals.     . 

CONSTANT    FREEMAN    DAVIS,   Cambridge. 
WILLIAM    ROBERTSON    PAGE,  Baltimore,  Md. 

Class- Day  Committee. 

ROBERT    TODD    LINCOLN,   Washington,  D.  C. 
MARSHALL    MUNROE    CUTTER,   Cambridgeport. 
FRANK    WALDO    WILDES,  Boston. 

Chaplain. 
WILLIAM    ADAMS    MUNROE,   Cambridgeport. 

Chorister. 

RUSSELL    NEVINS    BELLOWS,  New   York. 
EDWIN     PLINY     SEAVER,   Northboro\  Mass,  (pro  tern.) 


Class  Secretary. 
WILLIAM    LAMBERT    RICHARDSON^  Boston. 

Class   Committee. 

HENRY  HARRISON    SPRAGUE,  Athd,  Mass. 
GEORGE    GOLDING    KENNEDY,  Roxbury. 


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